


A sad boy

by cant



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 01:19:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10911381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cant/pseuds/cant
Summary: Felix is a sad boy but everyone makes mistakes





	A sad boy

Felix had dreams about her he couldn't help. They were the kind of dreams he hated, where he would be slamming her against a wall and pushing harder, harder, faster, just to hold on to the feeling before it left forever, but getting frustrated when the end wouldn't come.

She was whining his name, louder and louder, peppered with whines and gasps and desperate groans, her breathy moans getting higher and faster, but nothing came.

Sinking his pointed teeth into her beautiful flesh helped. She gasped, cried out his name, whined protests, but he didn't stop, couldn't stop, tearing chunks of flesh like he was starving and draining the life from her shuddering body. He held her closer, still fucking her into the wall, harder and more ruthless with each desperate whine that came from her lips.

"Baby, stop," she breathed weakly. He didn't. He pushed her harder, faster, kissing her like it was the only thing he knew how to do. "Felix, please, stop-"

He tore more, ripping at tendons and ligaments and veins, swallowing everything that rushed over his lips until she was screaming, and he was fucking her harder, tearing into her flesh with steel fingers and aggressive thrusts, trying to finally get that sweet release. Blood soaked his skin, his shirt clinging to him with hot, wet blood, and her screams slowly died out to be replaced with small, weak gasps which got weaker and weaker the more he carried on.

Finally, a tense, relieved shudder washed through him and he bit directly into her throat. He saw white, the best orgasm of his entire life, just as the air left her lungs and blood exploded all over his lips, his face, his neck, his chest. He'd never felt more alive.

Felix woke up with an uncomfortable wet patch in his pyjama trousers and a cold sweat.

Ophelia stirred beside him - the relief that washed through his body was like the orgasm he'd dreamt a second ago, only with the real, desperate urge to cry.

"Hm... What are you... Oh... Felix, baby, you okay?"

Felix was not okay - shit, he could barely look at her without feeling the urge to throw up. He knew he was disgusting, but how could he get off to something as twisted as murdering his own girlfriend? She was alive, but he felt like he'd betrayed her.

"Felix? Sweetie, come here. Bad dream?"

She finally noticed his trousers.

"Good dream?"

An amazing dream. He wanted to choke the life out of her, fuck her until she couldn't breathe, kiss her until she saw stars, drink her blood until there was no life left in her.

So why couldn't he move?

"Felix?"

One slender finger brushed his cheek, under his eye, and he realised she was brushing away a tear. Shit, incredible.

He shook his head, trying to shift away from her, but his body wouldn't move.

"What happened, huh? Baby?"

His mother had done the same thing. Violent, aggressive dreams that had no place in a sweet boy's subconscious would haunt him and she would strongly his cheek and sing him to sleep again. She'd kiss him gently and get him better. Gently.

"You're cute," Ophelia said quietly. "Don't cry."

Felix sighed and turned his gaze to the floor. She didn't need to know. "Nothing," he said, though his voice cracked and she knew it wasn't nothing.

"Right," she sighed. "Wanna talk about-"

"I'm disgusting," he blurted out, like a lunatic, watery eyes meeting hers. "Don't leave me. I know I'm a monster. Please. I'll be good. I- I can be a- anything you- you want me to be... I- I... I love you-"

"Oh, shh-shh," Ophelia breathed, and suddenly Felix was breathing gentle sobs into her chest. She stroked his hair, silencing his babbling, staying gentle and loving like she always was, just like he didn't deserve to be treated. He didn't deserve her gentle loving, or her sympathetic petting. "It's okay, baby, just a dream. You're not a monster. You're beautiful."

Her flesh had never smelt so good. Through the tears and the sniffling he could smell her skin, feel the blood under it pumping faster with worry when he tightened his arms around her and held her close.

"You hungry, sweetie? I got a blood bag."

Blood bag, of course. Felix could almost laugh. His fingers tightened on her side - but the twinge of guilt in his brain told him no. No. Enough. If he fed on her, he'd never stop. He'd drain her dry. They both knew it. She'd kept him on those fucking blood bags for so long. He was tired all the time, aching, getting sick, bad dreams haunted him, and he was teetering on the edge of depression. He knew the blood bags were the cause. He didn't want to drink from them, but he had to or he'd die. Lately he'd been wondering if that was so bad an idea.

"Felix, honey, just- if I say stop, you gotta stop, okay?"

He nodded, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to, but she lowered the strap of her shirt and he knew.

Breath heavy and eyes dilated, Felix let the Need overtake him. Fangs finally found their mark and sunk into her flesh. They were both nervous but he was more so, and that didn't change as sweet, hot blood-witch blood poured over his lips. With a low, needy groan, he took more, more, eyes glazing over like a hungry baby breastfeeding, adjusting his position and breathing heavily through his nose.

"O-okay," Ophelia whispered, but her voice was far away and echoed in his dulled, consumed mind. "Felix. That's enough - you're going to get sick again."

It took everything he had to pull away and wipe his mouth, dizzy with the feeling of finally eating after starving and surviving on rations. Even as his eyelids dipped and he felt a haze of sleep fall on his body, he had to whisper a gentle 'sorry' to her and curl up on her lap, a sorry, pathetic excuse for a vampire.

Her fingers ran through his hair, gentle and loving. She sang to him, he was sure. He hated, sometimes, how much he loved her, because it hurt so much when she did things she thought, and he thought, were for the best. They were wrong. But it was part of learning.

He hoped.


End file.
